


dulce bellum inexpertis

by leov66



Series: dum vivimus, vivamus [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, implied PTSD, kinda references the brick if u squint (?), the sad follow up literally no one asked for not even me, uhh negativity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leov66/pseuds/leov66
Summary: [dulce bellum inexpertis (latin):war is sweet to those who have never experienced it, a quote from pindar made famous by erasmus as the title for his meditation on the subject of war]





	dulce bellum inexpertis

**Author's Note:**

> um what can i say uh
> 
> sad shit again ! c'est la vie im sorry 
> 
> also breaking news this series owns my entire ass its half past twelve and im _so tired. so tired_

The ride to the airport is quiet. Grantaire doesn’t let go of his hand for a second, too afraid of what could possibly happen. They fall asleep in the van for a while, but Enjolras feels like the barely-there, too-calm raise of his boyfriend’s chest is only pretending.

 

They haven’t talked about it. There’s nothing to talk about. Except he knows Grantaire has barely slept in those few days and when he did, he had nightmares and cried silently into the back of Enjolras’ shirt. (Jupiter’s cabin has never felt colder.)

 

“Two months, maybe three, not longer. I’ll Iris message you when I’m back in New Rome, okay?”, Enjolras says quietly, stroking Grantaire’s cheek, who manages a small smile.

 

“Okay. Promise you’ll be safe.”

 

“Promise.”

 

Their hug lingers for longer than usual, with neither willing to be the first one to let go.

 

* * *

 

 

The airplane feels uncomfortable and cold. The sky he used to love looking at, the fluffy clouds and the golden sunrays, they’re nothing but a sight he accepts like an obvious thing. His head hurts and in his memory there’s only a flash of white and then _nothing_ and then suddenly everything again. He feels lost where he should be at peace and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

 

Perhaps it’d all be better if Apollo had left him there to die. Trying to change destiny has never been the right choice.

 

* * *

 

 

Combeferre is there for him, like he’s always been. He doesn’t know yet, and the words stay in his throat like a lump that’s impossible to swallow yet he’s unable to let it out. The look in his eyes is enough, the _what happened, I can see you’re different_ , but he doesn’t say it. It’s enough for the guilt to claw at Enjolras’ heart like a wild beast, demanding to be felt. 

 

“Later,” he manages to say, taking in the sensation of being held so tight that he can feel it in his ribs. He wishes he didn’t have to let go, too warm, too much like  _home_. 

 

Nothing is going to be the same, he realizes right there, and the truth hurts. Something had died there, and it left him empty like that, _broken_. He’s always fought for honesty and faith, and in return he got this. Nothing is ever fair, at least when it comes to gods.

 

* * *

 

 

The air is warm and sweet with nostalgia and the undescribable taste of the colour red. It’s all too bright and too _summer_ for him, and he wishes it was cold again. Romans - his _family_ , people he’s known all his life, laugh all around him like it’s any other day, but for him it feels like nothing is ever gonna be the same again. They feast and joke and live and everything is just too much, so he excuses himself to try to calm himself down by the Temple Hill, which is pretty ironic. The Jupiter Optimus Maximus temple is behind his back, but he doesn’t even consider walking in. 

 

The sunset looks beautiful like it always does and he merely observes it, without a single thought crossing his mind. 

 

A hand on his shoulder.

 

“We need to talk about this.”

 

 _Combeferre._ His praetor, his commanding officer, his closest friend.

 

“There was…a _ventus_. R and I…we fought it, and it, I…”

 

Words have always come easily to him, and he’s at loss for them suddenly. 

 

“Lightning. I shouldn’t be alive, it should have killed me,” he manages to choke out, and it’s as terrifying to him as it is to Combeferre.

 

Combeferre doesn’t say anything, perhaps doesn’t know what to say.

 

* * *

 

 

The very same night, he can’t sleep. He shuffles in his bed and the usual snores of his friends do nothing to put him at ease. The sun isn’t even up when he quits trying and instead goes for a run around New Rome, hoping it’d calm him down. The guards by the entrance, from the Second or the Third, he doesn’t know their faces yet, are surprised for a while, but choose not to ask any questions. He appreciates that, silence and discipline are what he needs. In his head, he goes through what he’s planning to do on the morning drills, Hannibal’s feeding times, anything that’s not what he should be thinking about. 

 

He meets Combeferre around his third lap, drinking coffee by the Fields of Mars. The praetor might look stern and untouchable for others, but Enjolras knows better, knows him like no one else does. He reads through his facade with a single glare, sees the worry, the lack of sleep, the pressure.

 

“You’re here for a reason, we all are. Surrender is not an option.” He speaks like he’s at the Senate, trying to convince everyone that what he’s thinking is what they’re all thinking.

 

“ _Conquer or die_ , I know, but I can’t.” 

 

Enjolras has no strength left, he knows that much, feeling like a baloon without air. 

 

“They just watched us, like it didn’t mean anything. Just watched him cry, watched me die. Apollo, of them all. Not my father, not Minerva, not even Venus. And even that, only because _he never asked for anything_.”

 

Maybe there is a little thing left inside him. Anger. 

 

“How _dare_ they?

 

No answer.

 

* * *

 

Back in Long Island, Grantaire grieves. Dionysus’ kids have always liked him for his dumb jokes, and the wine they somehow always have makes everything slow down. _He can live like this_ , dreaming in shades of green.

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [@euphra-sie](https://euphra-sie.tumblr.com) Blease interact
> 
>  
> 
> also sidenote ! conquer or die is, according to the riordan wiki and my memory of the hoo series, one of lupa's mottos. if u dont know who she is im sorry and also google will help u.


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